Chapter 4: The Daughter They Told Him Was Dead
"Say that again.""
Marcus's voice was barely recognizable.
Daniel stood beside the broken photograph, his face drained of color.
"Sophie is alive.""
Marcus shook his head.
"No. That's impossible.""
"I wish it were.""
"Claire gave birth to a stillborn baby. I held her in my arms at the hospital. I buried my daughter.""
Daniel lowered his eyes.
"You buried an empty coffin.""
The words struck Marcus harder than any physical blow.
He grabbed the edge of the dresser.
"What?""
Daniel opened his briefcase and removed a thin folder.
"I was hoping I'd never have to show you this.""
Marcus stared at the folder.
"What is it?""
"Documents from Claire's original hospital admission. I obtained copies several years ago when we were reviewing her estate.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because Claire specifically instructed me not to disclose anything until Ethan turned twenty-one.""
Marcus looked at him.
"Another one of Claire's secrets?""
Daniel nodded.
"She left instructions with me. If Ethan reached twenty-one, and if certain documents were recovered, I was to tell you everything.""
Marcus snatched the folder.
The first page was a hospital discharge record.
The second was a birth certificate.
The third was a document containing a handwritten amendment.
He read the name.
*Sophie Hale.*
Then he looked at the date.
Twenty-seven years earlier.
His daughter had been born alive.
Healthy.
And discharged into the care of another family.
Marcus dropped the papers.
"No.""
Daniel bent down to collect them.
"Marcus—"
"No! Claire told me our daughter died!""
His voice cracked.
"She held my hand in that hospital room. She cried with me. I watched them take the little blanket away. I spent twenty-seven years believing I had failed to protect my child!""
Ethan stood in the doorway.
He had never seen his father cry.
Not even at Claire's funeral.
"Dad...""
Marcus turned toward him.
"Your mother lied to me.""
Ethan approached slowly.
"Maybe she had a reason.""
Marcus stared at him.
"How can you say that?""
"Because Mom loved us.""
"Then why would she do this?""
Ethan had no answer.
Daniel placed the documents on the dresser.
"There's something else.""
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"Of course there is.""
"The adoption was arranged privately. Claire's younger sister, Rebecca, helped her.""
"Rebecca?""
"Yes. She was listed as the temporary guardian.""
Marcus looked at the photograph again.
Claire and the young woman standing beside her.
The woman was holding a baby.
On the back, Claire had written:
For Marcus, when the time is right.
Marcus closed his eyes.
"When was the time supposed to be right?""
Daniel hesitated.
"Claire never gave me a date.""
Marcus turned sharply.
"Then how do you know Sophie is alive?""
Daniel removed another document.
"Because I received a letter from her three months ago.""
Ethan frowned.
"She contacted you?""
"Yes.""
Marcus stepped closer.
"What did she say?""
"She wanted to know whether her biological father was still alive.""
Marcus's face crumpled.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"She specifically requested confidentiality. She had spent years trying to understand her adoption, and she wasn't ready to meet you.""
"Where is she?""
"I don't know.""
"Daniel!""
"I gave her my contact information. She said she would reach out when she was ready.""
Marcus looked down at the photograph.
His daughter had been alive.
Somewhere in the world, she had grown up, gone to school, celebrated birthdays, and learned to walk without him.
He had missed everything.
Every first word.
Every scraped knee.
Every school performance.
And now, just when he had learned the truth, she was gone again.
Ethan placed a hand on his father's shoulder.
"We'll find her.""
Marcus nodded.
Then he noticed something on the back of the photograph.
A small number had been written beneath Claire's message.
*417.*
He showed Daniel.
"Does this mean anything?""
Daniel studied it.
"Not immediately.""
Ethan looked toward the open window.
"Wait.""
He crouched beside the dresser.
There was something underneath it.
A small metal key.
He picked it up.
"Is this the key Vanessa took?""
Marcus shook his head.
"No. The one she took was smaller.""
Ethan examined the key.
A number had been engraved on it.
417.
Daniel's expression changed.
"That's a storage locker key.""
Marcus turned.
"How do you know?""
"Claire rented a private storage unit shortly before she died. I helped her arrange the paperwork.""
"Where?""
"At a facility outside the city.""
Marcus grabbed his coat.
"Then we're going there.""
Daniel raised a hand.
"Not without calling the police.""
"She's already gone, Daniel. Whatever was in that locker, she knows about it.""
"Which is precisely why we shouldn't walk into an unknown situation.""
Marcus looked at Ethan.
"You're staying here.""
Ethan shook his head.
"No.""
"Ethan.""
"She tried to frame me tonight. She stole from your safe. She knows something about Mom's death. And now she's running around with information about my sister.""
Marcus hesitated.
Ethan stepped closer.
"I'm not a child anymore, Dad.""
Marcus looked at his son.
Then he nodded.
"Fine. But you stay beside me.""
Daniel took out his phone.
"I'll contact the police and meet you there.""
The storage facility was nearly deserted when Marcus and Ethan arrived.
Rain tapped against the metal roof.
A security guard sat inside a small glass booth, watching a television.
Marcus showed him the key.
"Unit 417.""
The guard checked his computer.
"That unit belongs to a Claire Hale.""
Marcus swallowed.
"She's my wife.""
The guard looked at him.
"I'm sorry, sir.""
"She's dead.""
The guard glanced at the screen again.
"Then I'm afraid I can't let you in without proper authorization.""
Marcus produced the old rental agreement Daniel had sent him.
The guard examined it.
"All right. Follow me.""
They walked down a narrow corridor lined with identical metal doors.
Unit 417 was at the end.
The guard unlocked it.
Then he stepped aside.
Marcus slowly pushed the door upward.
Inside were several cardboard boxes, a wooden cabinet, and a small table.
Everything was covered in dust.
Except one thing.
A chair.
Someone had recently moved it.
Marcus stepped inside.
"Someone's been here.""
Ethan examined the cabinet.
"Look at this.""
He pulled open the top drawer.
Inside was a collection of photographs.
Claire holding baby Sophie.
Claire standing beside Rebecca.
Claire sitting at a restaurant with a man Marcus didn't recognize.
And finally, a photograph of Robert.
Marcus stared.
His brother was standing beside Claire's car.
The date printed on the photograph was October 17.
The day Claire died.
Ethan picked it up.
"Dad.""
Marcus took the photograph.
On the back were three words.
He followed us.
Marcus's stomach tightened.
He turned toward the cabinet.
There was a small envelope taped underneath the bottom drawer.
He pulled it free.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Marcus, if you're reading this, then Robert has probably found out about Sophie.
Marcus's hands trembled.
He continued reading.
I didn't hide our daughter because I stopped loving you. I hid her because someone in our family wanted to use her.
A sound came from the corridor.
Both men turned.
Footsteps.
Then a woman's voice.
"Marcus?""
He recognized it immediately.
Vanessa.
She stood at the entrance.
Her hair was wet.
Her coat was unbuttoned.
And in her hand was a photograph.
"You're not supposed to be here," Marcus said.
Vanessa looked at the open locker.
Then at the letter.
Her expression changed.
"You found it.""
Marcus stepped toward her.
"Where is Sophie?""
Vanessa swallowed.
"I don't know.""
"Don't lie.""
"I'm telling you the truth.""
"Who took her?""
Vanessa looked at Ethan.
Then she whispered:
"Your brother.""
Marcus froze.
"What?""
"Robert knows where she is.""
Ethan stepped forward.
"Why would he know?""
Vanessa looked at Marcus.
"Because Robert didn't just help Claire hide your daughter.""
She raised the photograph in her hand.
"He helped arrange her disappearance.""
Marcus stared at the image.
It showed a little girl standing beside a woman outside a school.
On the back was a handwritten name.
*Sophie Bennett.*
May you like
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
"And tomorrow morning, Robert is planning to move her again.""
